Doubting Myself

I had a moment of panic last night. The cause of the dread and anxiety was imperceptible. I have no idea what tipped me over, but my mind filled with the question "Am I just a poser ?"

For many years I've considered myself a bit of a JOATMON (Jack of all trades, master of none). I dabble in many media, from music to writing to painting and drawing, and as you see here photography. I've chased so many artistic pursuits and yet I never gain the proficiency I desire in any of them.

Sure, you could say that art is a process, that one never truly achieves the proficiency one desires. Art is chasing something fleeting, and the best we can do is get the occasional good result. We are our own worst critics, we see every minute detail and mistake.

But last night I was terrified. I have been playing at photography for years. I started on disposable cameras, then APS, then a whole variety of digital point and shoots and bridge cameras. It wasn't until 2020 that I jumped the shark and bought a DSLR. That was when I got serious. I finally considered myself a photographer because I had the fancy equipment.

Then came film, again. Back when I started film was all there was. I used whatever my mom bought, dropped it in the drugstore box and collected the prints in an hour or so. Later on my brother worked in a photo shop so all I had to do was give him the rolls and wait. It wasn't a hard process.

Last year, an innocent search for a way to make cheap prints led me to cyanotypes. It wasn't an ideal way to make prints from digital images, but it was fun. Cyanotypes led me to want to do in-camera cyanotypes. Which led to eleven Brownies showing up at my door. This in turn became "hmmm, they still make film for these."

Thus began a rabbit hole of mythical proportions. Over a dozen cameras, caffenol, tanks, thermometers, C-41 chemistry, a fancy scanner, pages of negatives, a fridge drawer with lunch meat and film in it (much of which is expired, the meat and the film)... So many things just to explore an old medium which back in the day took maybe three steps: load, shoot, drop off.

I'm an addict. I listen to podcasts, I drool over Mamiyas, I search the most random stuff on YouTube.

A few weeks ago I got a wild hare and decided to get a whole darkroom. Well, most of it. For $200 I got an enlarger with two condenser heads, easels, a safelight, and a bunch of bits and bobbles.

What did I get myself into? I have no room for this crap! I guess the bathroom will do. But now I had to get paper, trays, filters, chemistry, a focus finder, all the missing items just to make prints. I've come full circle. I wanted prints of my digital work, now I'm going to make prints from film. The expense overwhelmed me.

Do I even like doing this?

My kids joke that I'm a hipster. I have a beard, I love craft beer, I have an extensive collection of vinyl records, and now I shoot film. I have never wanted to be trendy. I have never tried things because I saw other people doing them. I had a beard in high school, listened to records in high school, and shot film in high school. I guess the beer came later, but I was doing the "cool" things twenty five years ago. Maybe I'm not a poser, I'm just a guy stuck in his very real, very missed past.

Yet, I'm still chasing art. I promised my girlfriend I wouldn't get more cameras (well, maybe a few more) and I was nervous when I told her I got the darkroom stuff. Her reply was "Oh, I'd just consider that a business expense." She sees something that maybe I don't: skills obtained through years of trial and error and experimentation. I may not be great at everything, but I have grown enough to possibly turn this hipster passion into money, if only to pay for the habit.

So I got a B&H credit card and ordered the rest of the darkroom. Perhaps it will all fit into my bathtub, perhaps I'll be hunched over an enlarger perched precariously on my toilet. Anything for a dream, anything for art.

This poser is all in.

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S. D. G.

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